


The Thought of You Saved Me

by astrovevo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Chronic Depression, Comfort, Depression, F/M, Hurt, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 18:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10577151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrovevo/pseuds/astrovevo
Summary: The four times Lydia had a panic attack and the one time Stiles was present to witness it all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't despcriptive because i started writing it when i was sad, then stopped. When I got back to it, I no longer felt sad. 
> 
> "Life can't ever be all good or all bad. You know, eventually things have to come back to the middle."

"LIFE CAN'T EVER BE ALL GOOD OR ALL BAD. YOU KNOW, EVENTUALLY THINGS HAVE TO COME BACK TO THE MIDDLE." - SCOTT MCCALL 

 

Ever since the death of her beloved friend, Allison, Lydia has not struck a balance in her life (so far). It’s been under two months since they brutally lost people they cared about. And maybe that was enough time . .maybe two months was enough time to move on. 

And why shouldn’t it have been for the lost Lydia Martin? She had only known her best friend – her sister – for less than a year. . not even a full year. So why is it so hard for her to pick up the pieces?

Everyone else has moved on. . well, that’s what it seems like. Scott found someone new to loves, Isaac moved to France to try and cope with the loss and this world he’s been thrown into and as for Stiles. . Lydia’s heart both shatters and becomes full at how his life is going. 

He has a girlfriend. Stiles Stilinski has a wonderful girlfriend. Sure, she can be blunt and rude but Malia Tate does not do it intentionally. It’s because she grew up as a coyote most of her life – survival was her main objective. Malia is loyal and her heart is in the right place, Lydia is sure of it. Yes, Lydia gets jealous sometimes and annoyed but it’s her character. Malia is a person Lydia loves but feels a burn within herself when she sees her with Stiles. 

There was a time when Stiles only ever care about Lydia. Lydia didn’t take this for granted. She tries to show her pack she cares but it does not always work out as she hopes. She can come off as rude and, quite frankly, bitchy but it’s because all through her life she was taught to show herself to be superior to others, consequently, she formed a ‘cold, lifeless exterior’ (quoting Stiles). Maybe that is why everyone in the pack is so distant with her. 

Or maybe Allison is the only one she ever had from the beginning. . Lydia feels as if she doesn’t belong anymore. Scott is too busy with Kira and his new beta, Liam and Stiles . . well, Stiles doesn’t care anymore. Lydia knows this. She knows this because of how he treated during their trip to Mexico. 

But Lydia doesn’t feel like she should blame him. She’s the useless one in this pack who got their alpha tortured because she couldn’t predict death. . She only ever found the dead bodies. 

And, as she sits at lunch, in the corner, out of social reach, Lydia’s heart drops, as does her sloppy sandwich. She no longer sits with the people that she once a part of. Now, she longer holds that privilege. She has no one. Tears brim her eyes as the emotions of pain and hopelessness overwhelm her. Memories of Allison reach her thoughts – the thoughts of the time of her death and the aftermath. Next follow the thoughts of Stiles dying and almost committing suicide to save them – a sharp sting follows and Lydia’s mind feels as if it’s shutting down. 

But it starts up again as she worries that things won’t ever get better. Her anxiety levels up and her lungs are crushed under the immense weight of grief. She lost Aiden, Allison and Stiles. She lost Stiles even though he is alive and well. She lost him and she will never have him back. 

Stiles doesn’t care about her anymore; he will never find a way to care for her again. All Lydia has done this year is string him along as if he was a little puppet when all he was was infatuated. But not anymore. 

Malia Tate has seen the wonderful boy before her and, at once, took the opportunity to be blessed with his eternal love. 

Lydia Martin misses Stiles Stilinski so dearly. But every time the lingering thought of his absence comes to mind, Lydia stomps on it and finds a way to blame herself. It is, in her opinion, all her fault. Aiden, Allison . .if Lydia was one time, they would have never died. However, isn’t that just another flawed part of Lydia Martin, the banshee thinks to herself. 

Lydia has no support in her life anymore. Her very best friend is dead, her mother is dealing with her father having ran away with all their money, Scott has better things to do (than paying attention to Lydia) and Stiles finally, unfortunately realised he was just wasting his time with her. 

The thoughts of having lost the people she most cared puts a rock on her heart, disintegrating it at an instant. Her oxygen supply no longer functions anymore and the tears streaming down her face do not help her. Lydia hand claws at her chest, as she silently screams to get rid of the pain. 

Breathe. . Lydia, come on, breathe! the banshee hears her late best friend whisper in her thoughts. But Lydia only breaks further on. 

“I’m sorry,” she cries out quietly, hoping her message reaches Aiden and Allison. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Lydia!” the strawberry blonde hears. She recognises that voice: Scott. She sits up straight, desperate to be swallowed up by the earth beneath her. Her hands shake around the half sandwich she made for herself, covered loosely with a thin spread of butter. Lydia, knowing that if she doesn’t do something soon, Scott is going to approach her, gets up, abruptly. Not wasting anymore time, she leaves the table she is sat at and sprints for her car. 

Her short legs push against the concrete ground, but she’s tired. Lydia’s exhausted. She pushes faster, afraid. The last thing she wants to do is cause Scott any more pain than she already has - Lydia thinks she should have been the one tortured in Mexico . . not Scott. . not the person who is trying to save everyone. Not the one who is the first to reach out to her ever since the death of Allison. 

She drops against a tree, behind the parking lot, loosing herself. 

Her breaths are short and rapid and the running she just did did not rest her case. Lydia gasps loudly, fisting the grass beneath her and throwing her head back. Lydia realises. . .she’s having a panic attack. 

Out of consent, the moment she shared with Stiles in the locker room, during his panic attack, comes rushing back to her. Lydia hears the sound of her voice calm the hazel-eyed teenager then, ‘Think of good things - happy things! Friends! Family!’ 

Taking her own advice, Lydia pictures her life. But it all ends tragically. Her breathing quickens under the heated thought of her friends’ deaths and Stiles not caring anymore. 

‘It’s okay, Lydia, you can do this,’ she tells herself, her lips tightly shut. But her cries splutter out and the tears come down harder. She’s gasping, as if she’s being drowned. 

Suddenly, behind her closed eyes appear the pictures of the boy she cares about so much. 

There are images of her and Stiles figuring out things together in his bedroom . . .the memories of running around Beacon Hills with him. Although they were in a dangerous situation, looking back, she finds it to be fun. Next come the eccentric memory of him unwrapping the red string from her fingers. 

Then, follows the feeling of Stiles hugging her. The favourable scent of his countless flannels tingles her senses and the gentle fabric of his shirt against her cheek provides comfort. She remembers how tightly his arms were wrapped around her. . he cared then. She remembers how he stroked her hair. 

Her gasps slowly fade as a smile forms on her lips at the thought of him and her holding each other a countless number of times within the last year. . when they were at the motel, when he saved her from the animal trap. . and when Aiden died. 

And finally, her panic attack stops. She softly smiles, closing her eyes and resting against the tree, happy that Stiles saved her without even being there. 

Stiles always waited for her. Is she going to blame him for finally finding love? No. 

Stiles deserves much more. Stiles doesn’t deserve someone as uncaring as Lydia. As Stiles is her anchor, Lydia knows that he deserves more than this universe. 

\- 

Lydia Martin is at a pack meeting. It’s been two weeks since her first ever panic attack and know anxiety is a burden she carries around. Her shoulders are slumped, her eyes are baggy due to exhaustion and her hair is brushed and open. Just like the inner depths of her, Lydia’s appearance has become a state of vulnerability. 

She keeps quiet most pack meetings. Lydia has seventy files stored in a new shelf she built herself last night. It holds everything related to the supernatural, including all the collections of research she has made. Just like every other day and for every pack meeting, Lydia stayed up all night and did her supernatural homework. She gathered all the necessary information and more so she could cover any questions that came up. 

It was the banshee’s method of trying to be useful to the pack. And, she did. 

“Wait, so do those things have any resemblance to a kanima?” Scott asks, hovering over a table. 

“No,” Lydia hoarse voice croaks. All eyes turn to her as she stands in a dark corner. She gulps, growing nervous under their concentrated stares. Her hands begin to shake as she takes a cautious step towards them. 

Next to all of them, Lydia feels small. 

Lydia sets the folder she specifically made for today on the table where everyone is either stood or sat at, unlike her. She opens the folder labelled ‘Pack Meeting - 27/10’. 

Reading the label, Scott looks up, hoping to catch Stiles’s gaze, to show concern, but he doesn’t. Stiles is too focused on whispering something into Malia’s ear before giving his attention to the banshee who has begun to explain. Scott frowns, but shrugs it off, nevertheless. 

“K-Kanimas turn animalistic upon anger . .” Lydia stutters, her voice small as she is nervous because of the people surrounding her. “B-B-Berserkers –” she takes a deep breath, her fingers playing with themselves, before quickly continuing, “become animals. Their humanity doesn’t last long, as Mr Argent told you. . . Thus, uhm, we cannot use the same methods we used for a kanima on a Berserker. With our current enemy, we need to be more violent and powerful.” With that, Lydia steps back, to let everyone read what she copy-pasted and typed by herself, as well. 

Malia, intrigued by this, hovers over the folder. “Woah! Thanks, Lydia!” she loudly says, flipping the page. She reads some of it before declaring, “I don’t understand this.” 

Right after Malia makes that confused statement, Stiles looks over his shoulder at Lydia, offering her a blank expression but Lydia makes out the hint of disappointment woven into it. She opens her mouth to defend herself and offer something, but Stiles looks away. 

“I-I can e-e –” mid-sentence, Stiles and Scott turn to look at her, making Lydia’s heart jump and for her to unnoticeably step back. “ – explain to her. I can explain everything.” 

Stiles looks at her for the longest time, and Lydia becomes anxious with every second. Her heart thumps and she looks at the floor, to calm herself but she can feel his gaze. 

“It’s fine,” Stiles mutters, before returning to reading the folder Lydia made for today’s meeting, just like she does for every other. 

Lydia hands are tremulous following that interaction. And she knows what’s coming. In order for her to calm herself, she’ll need to get away from the trigger, first. Gather the last threads of composure she has and all her politeness, Lydia approaches Scott, before gently tapping his shoulder – it’s soft because Lydia does not have much energy left in her. 

They step away from the pack and Lydia quickly opens her mouth before he can say anything. “Scott, if it doesn’t create a problem or any sort of inconvenience, may I leave? I- I have a paper I need to finish and some cleaning I need to do.” 

Scott opens his mouth and Lydia worries he’s going to decline. So, she adds, “I cleaned up your kitchen, so it’s in shape before Mrs McCall comes back from work. Uhm, I brought over some dinner for you all and there’s a separate dish I am sure your mother will enjoy.” 

“Lydia you didn’t need to do that,” Scott chuckles, a little worried for his friend. “Of course you can go! You’ve done so much already!” 

Stiles who joins them, adds, “Way too much!” He chuckles shortly, with a small toothy smile on his face. 

Lydia’s heart plummets. ‘Maybe he’s being sarcastic,’ she thinks to herself. Doubting every compliment directed towards her is a technique Lydia has developed to hurt herself. She pulls a smile, before backing away and heading towards the front door. 

Her mind replays all the hurt she’s felt for so long and tears gloss her pupils. 

Lydia feels so worthless. She hurries to her car, quickly starting it as soon as she’s in. She turns on the ignition and speeds out of the parallel parking to a place that has been the only place she’s felt wanted: the cemetery. 

By the time she makes it there, Lydia’s eyes are full of tears and she can barely make out her steps. However, she’s been here countless amount of times. She doesn’t need to see. 

Lydia’s knees finally give up and she crashes down to her knees on the wet grass before Allison’s grave. 

‘Loving daughter, fierce warrior and above all, best friend,’ reads the tombstone resting there. 

Lydia’s shoulder shakes as she thinks about her late, best friend. All the times Allison told her to keep smiling, all the times she helped Lydia figure things out. 

“I’m so sorry,” Lydia breaks out, wiping her cheeks, but it does not help. “I try so much to move on . . but I can’t do it without you. Not with you, not without Stiles.”   
Lydia breathes in deeply at the mention of his name. Her shaking hands lift to brush over the engraved letters on the headstone. And the cool touch of the stone sends a shock through her. 

For a long moment she’s captured by the memory of her feeling Allison’s death and dropping onto a motionless Stiles. She remembers the sting she felt. She remembers the repeated, non-existent stabs she felt. She remembers losing a part of her. And Lydia almost lost Stiles too. . 

Her breathing becomes more rapid and she runs her fingers through her hair trying to think of something to calm her down. 

She’s only got herself as a support system. The others. . they do not care anymore. They’ve found people more deserving of their love and attention. 

And in that moment, Lydia sees no point of her existence. 

It only worsens her condition. A darkness covers her. She feels an enormous weight being dropped onto her shoulders, only pushing her further into this immense darkness filled with anxiety. 

Her sobs break as she loses breathes. 

‘Lydia! Lydia just listen to me okay?’ she hears Stiles’s voice from a few days before call. ‘Lydia, just focus on my voice, alright?’ 

Although it is just a memory, it’s one of her favourites and it pulls her back from the sinking feeling of dread. ‘Block it out!’ 

Lydia smiles, resting her head on her knees, thinking about the boy. 

Maybe there is a point to living. . maybe that point is Stiles Stilinski. 

\- 

“This is the remnants of Satomi’s pack?” Stiles questions, inspecting the evidence Scott’s brought in. Scott, who is leaning over the table, nods at his best friend, with pursed lips. 

They hear a loud yawn. Scott looks over his shoulder and sees Kira cuddled with a blanket on the couch, half asleep. Scott looks back at Stiles and, this time, Stiles nods. 

“I think it’s time we call it a day,” Scott announces. Stiles looks over at his girlfriend, Malia, who has begun to gather herself to get home and sleep. 

Lydia, who’s entranced by a book she’s reading relevant to their case, looks up, and stops writing in one of the two books she always carries around. Maybe the book isn’t the only reason why she was so dazed out. She’s sitting in the corner, playing with her fingers, completely out of it. Her lips are dry, reminding her of her ongoing thirst. 

The small amount of hours (9 hours in four days, to be exact) has finally taken its toll on her. The bags under her eyes are profoundly dark and her sucked in cheeks are more evidence of her unpatterned diet and health. Stiles and Malia are about to head out, Malia ahead of Stiles, when Lydia decides to make finally speak to him when they aren’t trying to die. 

What she wants to say is to invite him to hang out with her at her house or at the coffee shop sometime. What she wants to say that it has been a long time since the two of them have had a decent, normal conversation. What she wants to say is that she needs a little help with coping with everything. 

But when she taps his shoulder and he abruptly turns around, whilst shrugging on his coat, Lydia freezes at the sight of his face up close. It’s been awhile since she’s gotten to see his features closely. And he’s grown. . of course he has, it’s been over two months. 

Her heart blossoms and she becomes fidgety, her fingers evidence. She opens her mouth but begins to stutter, “I - uh - I, uhm, was, uh. .I just .. you see.” Stiles looks at her, purely confused and a little impatient because of the current situation, plus he’s sleepy and his girlfriend’s waiting for him. 

So, Lydia doesn’t ask what she desperately wishes and dreamt of asking. Stiles deserves his sleep, especially of the sleepless, countless nights he had when the Nogitsune possessed him. 

“It’s nothing,” Lydia quickly says, fixing her gaze on the floor, to avoid her embarrassment. Her cheeks flush, but Stiles cannot see that. But tears slowly form on her eyes because of her weakness. 

“Okay,” Stiles replies, after a while of thinking. “I’ll see you later, I guess.” 

Lydia looks up, thanking the darkness because that means he can’t see her crying face. He’ll only judge her . .despite what he told her during sophomore year. “Yes, I’m sorry for bothering you like that. I hope you have a good night ahead, Stiles.” She takes a step back, feeling guilty for wasting his time like that. 

Stiles opens his mouth to reply but then they hear the ignition of a car and Stiles panics, eyes widening as he snaps his head to look over his shoulder to find Malia in the driver’s seat, excited to try out the Jeep, clearly. 

Stiles begins flailing his arms out as he begins to sprint, “Sorry! Need to go!” 

Lydia wants to object to his ‘sorry’ but she cannot because he’s already got into his car, trying to get Malia out of the driver’s seat. They’re laughing, wrestling. 

Lydia’s heart warms as she watches them. Simultaneously, it breaks. Lydia must let Stiles be happy. It is her own fault for not having spent time with him earlier. 

She no longer has the right to complain of not having him in her life. She messed that up for herself. She should have noticed him earlier, should have spoken up, earlier. But just like with everything else, Lydia was never on time. 

She wipes her make-up free eyes to get rid of the formed tears and walks back in. “Scott?” Lydia calls. She finds him leading Kira to the door He stands up and smiles. Scott walks around the couch and towards Lydia. Smiling, he escorts her and Kira to the entrance. 

After the two exchange a quick kiss, Kira leaves on her bike. 

“Thanks, Lydia. For all your help,” Scott brightly says. Lydia senses the formality in his tone. He probably says it to make her feel better. And Lydia appreciates that greatly. 

“Thank you so much, Scott, for that,” Lydia replies genuinely. Scott nods, his smile growing. “Before I forget,” Lydia says, opening the books in her arms. “I spent the last few nights doing a little more research,” she fiddles with the papers, “It’s here somewhere.” 

But one thing led to another and suddenly the books and papers are flying out of her hands, up and then straight onto the floor. 

And Lydia’s eyes widen in shock. 

Instantly, she drops to her knees to gather everything quickly, however Scott does to. A panic of Scott finding out swarms her and her hands become tremulous once again as she first tries to pick up the papers that are only for herself. 

“It’s alright, Scott! I got this,” Lydia tries to wave away but there are too many papers. 

“It’s fine, Lydia, I’ll quickly help you, it’s o–” but Scott stops. He doesn’t finish the sentence and Lydia closes her eyes, waiting for the pending, arising question. 

Scott spots a page, and then another and then another, all with similar content. He doesn’t want to invade her privacy but the phrases he reads are, ‘Dear Stiles,’ and ‘I’m not okay,’ following, with the worst, ‘I’m so sorry’. 

Scott has to ask. He isn’t going to sit there and let his close friend carry on like this. 

Slowly, he lifts his head to look at the broken banshee. “Lydia?” he gently calls, after a few seconds. 

Lydia looks up, composing herself. “It’s nothing, Scott. Just a bunch of poetry things I write,” she lies through her teeth. Little lies to cover up the truth. Lying is what she was best at but the more time she spent with this loving pack, the more she lost the ability. 

“My best friend’s name is written on this,” Scott pushes. Lydia winces, feeling a pang of guilt.   
“Just tell me what’s going on. .” 

And that does it. Lydia feels all the dark memories of being too late rise in her throat and clog her lungs with toxic gas. 

She was always too late, she was always too late.

“I’m sorry!” Lydia gasps, clutching her chest as it begins to tighten. 

She remembers burying Allison in the ground and the pain of losing Aiden. She thinks about ‘killing’ Meredith and about hurting the people around her. 

‘It’s my fault,’ she repeats in her mind. ‘All my fault.’ 

In an instant, Scott crouched beside her, holding her close. “We’ll make it through,” Scott whispers, rubbing her back. “Think about Stiles. . your anchor. Remember the time he saved your life. . the time you saved his? Remember going to that golf park, all of us?” 

The good memories worm their way into her plagued mind and Lydia hears her heartbeat settling. 

And then the only sound alive is the crying of Lydia. She breaks against Scott’s hold, sobbing into his chest. “I’m sorry,” she sobs loudly, clutching Scott’s collar tighter. 

“It’s okay, Lydia,” Scott whispers, holding her tighter. 

Scott holds her as Lydia lets go of all the pain she’s felt since Allison’s death. She lets go of the feeling of not being wanted and loneliness. “It’s alright,” Scott softly says, whispering into her hair. 

In the dark night, the two sit at the entrance of the McCall home with the door wide open as they hold onto each other, understanding that they have lost too much to be okay. 

After a while Scott gets up and leaves quickly to go to the kitchen. He prepares hot tea for her before he hands it over to her and gets back on his knees “How long?” Scott asks after sitting in silence for a few minutes, referring to her panic attacks. 

Lydia doesn’t say anything. She sets the mug down beside her, on the floor, eyes blank. Lydia’s dazed off into another world. A world full of pain and regret. She remains quiet, hoping Scott will understand. After a few more moments, he does and he shuffles closer to her and wraps his arms around her. 

As he holds her, Scott finally understands: Lydia Martin is closing off. He doesn’t know if this depression she’s spiraling into. . he doesn’t understand but he wants to save her; he wants to save his friend. 

\- 

After that truthful night, Scott McCall paid as much attention as he could to Lydia Martin. Usually, he would hang out with her after school in the library because Lydia spends extra two hours at school to use the facilities BHS offers to complete homework and other projects. 

Now, after the night Lydia broke down before Scott, Scott comes with games and trivias because he read online that engaging a person who is upset is a good way to get them to brighten up. 

For example, today, Scott has brought chess. Scott doesn’t know how to play chess, however, he knows that strategy is required for this, therefore Lydia will surely enjoy it. 

It’s been three weeks since Scott found out about Lydia’s panic attacks. .

Stiles Stilinski, today out of all days, decided to stay after school to print a few things off. 

When he entered the library, he wasn’t expecting to see Scott and Lydia sitting on the second floor, playing an intense game of chess. Moreover, he didn’t expect to hear a laugh from Lydia Martin. Today is the first time Lydia Martin has laughed ever since the death of Allison and Aiden. 

Stiles’s heart swells and trembles under the calming sound of the strawberry blonde’s laughter. It manages to comfort him like being wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket on a winter night. Without hesitation, he runs up the stairs. They’re pretty much the only ones on the second floor. . the few of the other students present at the library are downstairs, making use of the computers. 

He wants to get close, he wants to see her smile. But Stiles sees the way Scott and Lydia are laughing as Scott messes up his moves and leads Lydia to kick out his bishop. Secondly, there’s something that doesn’t allow him to go near her. It’s almost as if he’s broken off from Lydia. 

And the more he thinks about it, the more real it becomes. The more he understands that, yes, that is exactly what happened; Stiles drifted away from Lydia. 

He is too busy with the supernatural aspect of their life and he has a girlfriend now. He has a girlfriend who’s real. He’s not chasing a fantasy. 

Stiles frowns when, for the first time in a long while, he notices how much Lydia Martin has changed. She’s no longer that superior character at their school. She has become more sealed off. . more quiet. She’s not wearing the ton of makeup she used to wear. . it’s lighter on her face, showing off the scars she’s gotten from the past year. Her hair has become duller because of her thoughts and because of the pain, he shoulders have become slumped. 

He isn’t the reason she’s laughing. Through the pain, Stiles smiles because at least Lydia is getting better. 

Over the next few days, Stiles notices Scott and Lydia together a few times. .sometimes Kira would be with them. They would be eating lunch, completing homework or playing a board game. 

\- 

A week after Stiles discovered Scott and Lydia’s routine, Scott makes a stop at the Martin’s house to check up on her. “Hey,” Scott greets, peering through the small gap he’s made of the door. 

Lydia smiles at him, motioning him to come into her room. She’s sitting at her desk, lots of textbooks and papers around her. 

When Scott sits at the edge of her bed, closest to the desk, he notices that what stands out is the leather journal resting wide open before her with a pen resting on top. 

And, once again, he reads the word, ‘Dear Stiles’. 

Lydia catches his gaze and her eyes grow wide. Hastily, she shuts her journal and gets up, beginning to organize everything on her desk. 

“What’re you doing here?” she frantically asks. The question at first would sound rude but when Scott thinks about it, the question has come from confusion. Confusion of why he is here. 

That’s when he realises: no one has come to hang out or talk to Lydia for a long time. That’s why his presence is so confusing. 

Lydia only gets called by her ‘friends’ when they need something. After Allison’s death, when she picks up the phone, her greeting is ‘How can I help?’ instead of the natural ‘Hello’. That striking difference says so much. It says how strained Lydia’s relationship has become with the rest of the pack. 

Scott takes a deep breath, fiddling with the motorcycle helmet in his hands. “I - I just want to know what that is you’re writing. .” Scott knows he shouldn’t be so straightforward but he just wants to get to why she’s writing supposed letters to his best friend. 

Lydia’s eyes become glossy instantly at the question and she takes a deep breath.   
Scott is the first one to have reached out to her in a very long time. He cares, He cares, he cares! That’s what Lydia tells herself as she focuses on evening her breath. 

When she’s calmed down after five minutes, Lydia begins to tell her story. “After. . After,” her throat chokes up as she says, “Allison died, . .I - uhm- lost myself. I didn’t see a point in living. Everyone I ever loved, ever cared about. . left me. My-my mother s-s-sent me to therapy. There, I was t-told to k-keep a journal where I write about my day. If I can’t talk about it, writing is the next best thing.” 

Scott shuffles closer, at the revelation. Therapy? How had he missed all the signs? How? More importantly, how come Stiles missed the signs? 

“C-c-chronic depression,” Lydia whispers out. She lifts her head to look at Scott, who is now shocked. His eyes are glazed over. “I tried - I tried writing to Allison,” Lydia strangles out, a sob escaping as well. She shakes her head, frantically, tears streaming down her face as she further explains, “I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it. It’s all still fresh. . I miss her so much, Scott!” 

Lydia has never admitted that out loud. Lydia wipes her eyes but the tears continue. “So. . the therapist told me to write to someone else. . someone I find comfort in. . someone who can pull me back. .” Lydia trails off, tears cascading down her cheeks. 

“Stiles,” Scott finishes, dropping his head to look at the floor. 

Lydia chuckles, nodding her head before wiping her right eye with the back of her hand. She looks up, before cracking a soft smile, “Someone just like Stiles.” 

Lydia’s heart hammers against her chest and the pain is too much. Her world crumbles around her when she isn’t around with him. 

“I-I wanted to stop life. But then I found a reason. . I found a reason to stay: Stiles.” 

And Scott has never felt such a gruesome pain in his chest after losing Allison. Simply, Scott leans over and pulls Lydia into a bear hug. 

\- 

It’s been a day since they got Stiles Stilinski back from the Wild Hunt. Everything, of course, is still fresh in their minds. 

Lydia Martin is sitting at the back of their last class English class and she is asleep. Don’t blame her, they’ve been – well, more specifically, she has been up all night for three months because she couldn’t remember Stiles and bring him back. Cut her some slack. 

The girl next to her drops her textbook to the floor and the crashing sound wakes Lydia up from her sleep. Lydia sits up right, sharply. She whips her head around, taking in her surrounding.   
Stiles. . where is Stiles? Lydia panics. Was I dreaming? I couldn’t have been. Where is Stiless? 

She scans the room but she can’t find anyone. . rescuing him .. was it all just a dream?   
No, it couldn’t have been . . I kissed him! Lydia thinks. ‘Please, God, no! I COULDN’T HAVE BEEN A DREAM! 

And her heart speeds up. It all felt so real .. she remembers holding him. No, she could not lose Stiles! But had she? 

Her lungs tighten at the very crushing thought and her heartbeat speeds up. Her mind fogs up at the fact of having lost him. . living in a world without him. Her breath begins to become heavy, as she grips the sides of her desk tightly. Her nails claw into the woodwork and her mind begins to strain. 

Lydia Martin knows that Stiles Stilinski is her everything. Without him, she feels empty. Nothing of her functions, nothing cooperates. She needs him for her mind and soul to be at peace. She needs him for her heart and mind to connect. 

Her mind begins to become a whirlwind and within seconds, she’s gotten up and is heading straight for the door. 

The sound of the door loudly closing grabs Stiles’s attention so he gets back up from rummaging in his bag and scans the room. Frowning, not seeing Lydia, he turns back to look at his friend, Sydney. “Hey, do you know who just left?” Stiles questions, looking over his shoulder. 

Sydney looks at him expectantly, before answering, “Lydia.” 

Stiles’s eyes widen and he whips his body to look ahead. The next second, he’s gotten up and is gathering all his things. He jogs to the door. Before he rushes out, he says, “I need to tend to her.” 

The teacher has her mouth open when Stiles leaves. After blinking a couple of times, she turns to the remaining students and asks, “Those two finally got together?” 

Outside, in the hallways, Stiles whips his head around to catch sight of his strawberry blonde. And he does. 

Lydia is crying, her forehead resting against a locker – his locker. She’s holding the lock, gasping for her breath as tears stream down her face. Her hair is ruffled and she looks absolutely lost. Stiles realises that she’s having a panic attack because she thinks they didn’t get him back. 

Without further hesitation, Stiles runs to her. When he gets to her, he wraps his arms around her from the side, furiously whispering, “I’m here. It’s alright. I’m here, Lydia. You haven’t lost me.” He kisses her hair multiple times, then nuzzles his nose in her hair. 

But her quick breathing doesn’t slow down. And so Stiles thinks of the one thing he knows about panic attacks: he turns Lydia and smashes his lips to hers. 

‘I read somewhere that holding your breath could stop a panic attack,’ rings Lydia’s voice from the memory of their first kiss. ‘So. . when I kissed you, you held your breath.’ 

Their kiss is raw and passionate. Their tether ties a strong knot as butterflies erupt in their stomachs. Sparks waver through the body, filling them with an unexplainable light and joy. For Lydia, it dies her down to the ground before she loses her mind. 

Lydia gasps, pulling away and looking at him. “Y-Y-Yo-o-ou-u –” Lydia stutters, as the tears slowly come to a halt. She cautiously lifts her hands to cradle his face, afraid if her motion is too quick and harsh, he’ll disappear. Lydia smiles gently, and the tears come again. “Y-You’re h-h-h-he-e-e-e-re.” 

Stiles has a look of pain on his face, hurt by seeing his girlfriend suffer so much. He lifts his hand to cup her right cheek. He sighs, assuring and aplogising, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there before when you need me after all we lost. But . . I’m here, now. And I’m not going anywhere.” 

Lydia nods her head, breaking into tears of happiness, as she throws herself at him, hugging him tightly. Her arms wind around his neck and shoulders, pulling him impossibly close to her. Stiles wraps his arms around her, hugging her tightly and burying his face in the joint where her shoulder and neck meet. 

The soft skin of his nose tickles her, giving her evidence of his presence. Furthermore, his cologne comforts her. . just like it did when she found his jersey a couple of days ago. “You’re here,” Lydia whispers again, kissing the side of cheeks, before hugging him once more. 

Stiles and Lydia know that no matter how far they are – even if one of them is in another dimension – they’ll find their way back to each other.


End file.
